War of the Titans
by DJ Madcat
Summary: My first Vandread fic!!! Somewhere out there exists a third Pexis that has been raised for the purpose of unleashing its unlimited military potential. And this faction has harnessed its power... what happens when they meet with Nirvana? Pls. R&R!!!
1. An Encounter With a Singularity or Two

Author's Notes: This is a poor excuse to use up my ample time after getting some inspiration from a dream I had last night. I can also see that the result will end up poor due to the fact that I've only seen up to the fifth episode of the Second Stage… don't ask me where I watch it. Ah, what the hell! I never expect good reviews since I'm just an 11-year-old Filipino boy studying in the sixth grade of the International Christian Academy. Ever wondered how many Pexis generators of the mysterious kind exist through out the galaxy? Ever wonder who might, in his own right mind, DARE to challenge the Earth besides Nirvana's crew and successfully beat the crap out of them? Well this is sort of an answer to those questions. I'll be using pure English since I'm not that knowledgeable about Japanese. The weapons described may be a little too technical to describe in layman's terms so please bear with me… after all, a lot of you siguro, gustong malaman yung kahulugan nang Singularity Cannon, di ba? I'm Sorry for any misspelled words. Please Enjoy!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread (Although I wish I did so's I could do a lot of stuff with it).

War of the Titans 

Chapter 1: Encounter with an Event Horizon… or Two 

Governmental Nexus, Prime Gear, Mother World Earth

Wednesday, 1515 hours, Earth Standard Time…

            Informative and Statistic images concerning recent battles with the ship known only as Nirvana scrolled in front of the recently upgraded body of Councilor Hendeller. He was still adjusting to his pale, newly attached skin that was harvested from Meranos. He liked it very much, although what the guys at council would say when they saw his new flesh was hard to tell. 

The statistics weren't good… considering the fact that they had already destroyed one Mother Ship and two Harvesters, the biggest casualties since the operation to renew human life on Earth began. Maybe not. They had lost far more of their harvest fleet to the faceless organization known as the Arcadian Confederacy. _And to think! They're just one ship!_ He thought, referring to Nirvana,_ How's that possible!?_ He gritted his pearl white teeth that were apparently harvested from New Abydos. 

            Just then, one of his informant agents appeared via vid-link, "Councilor, another three Mother Ship Battle Groups have been destroyed by those who give credit to the so-called Arcadian Confederacy. Also, the Arc-Con fleet has destroyed the Galvastan Station, which is a vital support structure."

            "A loss of such a scale to this Arcadian Confederacy is more reasonable than what was destroyed by Nirvana. They are more of a threat to us than Arc-Con." He responded. Deep research has been done on the Arc-Con, as it was abbreviated, and turned up very disturbing results. Approximately 80 percent of all Military Brass, Researchers, Soldiers, and Personnel who were sent out to colonize the universe composed the populations on the 13 Colony ships that brought civilization to the Arcadian Star System. _War Freaks,_ he thought.

Further research proves that the scientists who invented the Pexis were onboard as well, bringing with them one of the two original Pexis generators that had unlimited military potential: The Pexis Enigma. If the scientists that invented Pexis were among those who colonized the Arcadian System, they had all their time for Weapons Development on a scale superior to that of Earth's. _The fact that it was created for unlimited military potential means that it would be deadly in the hands of those who know how to use it, and those who want to put that use into war technology._ That was also true. Earth only used their Pexis to create harvesters, and a powerful fleet to protect them with, otherwise pick on the weaklings spread throughout the universe. Those Military wise guys were probably using Pexis to create a fleet beyond even Earth's wildest dreams for the sake of an extremely clichéd ambition of taking over the universe or something like that.

            "I concur, sir, but Arc-Con has deleted a total of 27 Mother Ship Battle Groups and 78 Harvesters. Pexis Countermeasure Battleships (The ones that could separate Hibiki's Vanguard from the Dread he's combined with) are no use against them due to the Arcadians' incredible maneuverability and shields that could repel our attacks, and they have created a counterattack against us that jams our copycat systems ensuring that we can never copy their technology during a fight." 

            "Are you asking me to put either one of the factions on the priority one list? That is not feasible. Harvest for humanity's survival is always on top of the list!" he strained on the bulky life-support system he was hooked to, "I suggest instead, that we eliminate the larger threat, namely Arc-Con, which would reduce the smaller threat, Nirvana, to a mere nuisance, while maintaining Harvest Operation protocol."

            "But sir—"

            "That decision is final!" he waved at the controls and his subordinate's image disappeared as he was about to say another word. Clearly, he must put a stop to the Arcadian menace, before they discover Nirvana and team up, which was most likely to happen in this war. Then again, they were pirates after all, and probably would not get along with the military.

Pexis Monitory Room, Arcadian Research Main Bldg., Arcadia Prime

Friday, 0620 hours, Arcadian Standard Time…

            Doctor Atriums Glaider stared through the viewing glass at the throbbing, green, luminescent orb imprisoned within several metallic encasements, which in turn, was enclosed into its tight space by a horde of green crystals. _Why is it reacting like this? Pexis Enigma-Omega is by far the most superior design in human history!_  A greatly upgraded and modified version of the original Pexis Enigma, Enigma-Omega was what Arcadia considered the 'Ultimate' military condiment in the universe.

 Why it reacted as though it were exhibiting aggression towards something that threatened its very existence was a mystery. _The only other Pexis that even comes close to Enigma-Omega's level of power is that old, beat-up crap toy that the Alpha Generation left on Earth! THAT, _he stressed mentally,_ is not even a hundred Gigamatrixes close to Omega's power output range!_

            _What's wrong, girl?_ He was like Parfet in the sense that he knew, or thought, rather, that whatever does work, scientifically speaking, was alive. Hell, he even thought that atoms were alive for the fact that they moved. He was 26, born into the Gamma Generation, the third since the colonization of the eight-planet Arcadian System. Green eyes, silver hair, and the features of his face bore a striking resemblance to his grandfather, the lead researcher of the team that invented, and continues to improve, Pexis. 

He was thinking of a reason to Omega's unusual behavior, when he saw it—the color red—it was embedded deep into the sphere's vibrant green; discreet, yet visible. Red—the color of the original Pexis Enigma design. Or rather, what his grandfather, Dr. Johan Glaider said its color would change into once its efficiency went down low enough due to overuse and poor maintenance. _Scared of big brother? Why? You were born to be far greater than he was, is, and will ever be._

            It beat in what appeared to be a reply. "Well don't be. You've been taught to protect yourself. We'll help you."

            "Talking to your grandpa's 'little bundle of joy' again, Arty?" commented his colleague, Dr. Carter. Unlike the Glaider clan, Carter was strict about the definition of living. If it reproduces, respires, and eats, it's alive. If not, then it's either non-living, or dead; end of story. 

            Glaider nodded, "I guess so. I've picked up several more phenomena that would be useful to apply in military technology. Feed it to Pexis, and let's see what she can make of it."

            Carter popped the optical disc into the drive, and marveled at what research had turned up with now. Statistics displayed recent information on Temporal Activity. According to this data, they had the technology required to engage in Temporal Mechanics: the control of time itself. Its use in warfare would turn the tides of any battle. When you are badly beaten, all you have to do is turn back the clock, freeze time in the current combat area before the fight starts, send in reinforcements, then, when all of your ships have boxed the time-frozen enemies in, un-pause, and destroy them. It was that simple. Or it was going to be, rather, when Pexis made that war fantasy a reality.

            "Think our little girl can make us a Time Control Device?" Carter asked.

            "No problem." Glaider began to fumble with the controls causing the throbbing green power source to pulsate even harder, and make weird, indescribable noises.

Abandoned Building, Zefha Avenue, Prime Gear, Mother World Earth

Friday, 1100 hours, AST…

            Colonel Roy Flint watched as several patrolling Beatleoids passed the avenue between their building, and the one across the street where the second squad was camped. He looked back at the four men behind him, giving them the signal to take their places at the windows. He contacted the second squad using his vid-link, giving them the signal as well.

            There were ten of them overall. Armed with the latest combat gear Arc-Con had conjured using Pexis Enigma-Omega, they were the advanced party sent to scout for the main operation that was to take place very soon. Plasma Rifles for Standard issue, DM-14 deatomizer grenades for demolition, BH-29 Singularity cannons if ever the going got tough, and full body Pexanium armor for protection. 

Pexanium, as researchers coined it, was an alloy with a composition of 35 percent Titanium, 25 percent Adamantium, 20 percent Iron, and 20 percent Pexis Energy. It was forged together by Enigma-Oh, as some people called Pexis Enigma-Omega. Created to withstand even the most powerful of Earth's Plasma Cannons, its existence would not be possible without Pexis.

As for the Singularity Cannons, they used high-powered neutron collapse generators to create a temporary Black Hole that grew larger the longer the cannon stayed online. They were restricted to keep it on for more than five minutes. The reason? That was enough time to give it the mass to exist independently of its energy source. In the event of that happening, it would continue to suck in matter and grow at monstrous speed until it swallowed up half the Arcadian System. Only then would it vanish, taking with it everything it has eaten. 

The last Beatleoid passed by, followed by a convoy of trucks containing livers that have been harvested from Toleida. He peered at the targets through his sniper scope. _Always blow up the gas tank, _he thought as he aimed for the hovering vehicle's visible gas tank. He spied his teammates who by this time were in position. All he had to do was let out the first shot, and the others would follow. 

He breathed deeply and exhaled, his breath condensing at his visor. Placed his finger at the trigger, waiting for the right moment. The target was in place as he squeezed. He recoiled as two bright yellow shots burst forth from the barrel of his gun. The truck exploded as the Plasma bursts hit their mark. Almost immediately, the other four trucks blew up as the street was filled with golden plasma beams from his team's firearms. 

The enemy had no time to react. One after another, the escorting crimson, insect-like titans lost a leg or shutting down due to their CPUs being destroyed, which unfortunately for them, were external. Fortunately, Beatleoids were slow to react and in less than a minute, they were all down. The sabotage was successful. Now all they had left to do was vacate the area, return to HQ, give them the signal, and the 'cleansing' of the Mother World would begin. Or so he thought.

That was when he heard a firefight erupt in the other building. He contacted the second squad. Lieutenant Alfred McLinder's image appeared on vid-screen, his subordinates letting out plasma shards in the direction of the door of the room, "What the Devil's going on over there, Lieutenant!?"

"Sir!" the Irish-descended soldier replied, "We've got Jell-Os in the hallway! We're currently holed up in the staging point room, and we're low on ammo!" Unlike super-concentrated photons, which comprised lasers, plasma's composition was superheated or ionized particles. 

Those were up to 1,000,000 degrees or higher. Jell-Os, what the Arcadians called those laser-refracting globs of green goo, (first seen in episode four of the 2nd stage) were therefore vulnerable against plasma. Unfortunately, they had ammunition limits. Flint heard one of McLinder's men yell, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" as he saw a deatomizer grenade lob outside the door. A second later, a loud blast was heard as it detonated in the hallway.

"Hold your position! We'll come for you as soon as—" Flint was cut off as several green blobs broke into their own room, spurting acidic glump balls the size of marble potatoes. They hit two of his men, and he watched as the liquid seared through their Pexanium suits, and ate into their flesh. 

Without second thought, he drew his Plasma rifle and emptied the magazine at the slimes. Having no time to reload, he brought out his Desert Eagle .50 caliber, a family Heirloom and 21st century favorite. He unloaded the eight-bullet magazine at them, in a One-bullet-per-enemy manner. Just as he was reloading, another batch flew into the tightened space, unleashing a rain of green acid, smoldering his and his two remaining teammates' armor.

The force of impact sent him down to the floor where he lay motionless, feeling the slime tear a hole in his suit and slowly begin to gnaw at his skin— 

He was disturbed by a female voice transmission via audio-link, "Colonel, a Spacecraft identifying itself as Nirvana has entered the immediate vicinity. SOP states that the commanding officer must hail any approaching ship. Please proceed to the bridge at once."

Private Quarters, ACS McDread, Patrol Sector 17Beta, Near Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1105 hours, AST…

            Colonel Roy Flint agitatedly removed his VR headset as the image of his first mate vanished after giving the message about an unidentified Ship. Agitated because he did not expect that Jell-O ambush to occur at all in that scenario. He thought he was prepared, prepared for anything. He placed it on hard mode not expecting the events to change so dramatically.

            He shook his head as he strapped on his uniform. He was a field officer, alright, but he was starting to get old, so they stuck him into commanding the ACS McDread. At age forty and still running around on this poor excuse for a Battleship, VR was the only thing that kept him strategically fit, while the onboard recreational facility kept him physically fit. 

            At least he got to command a patrol-type Battle Group, which was more than enough to destroy an Earth Mother Ship Battle group… as long as they followed SOP.

            He trudged out the sliding door with his .50 Deagle in its holster at his side. Earth's Mother Ships were a real pain in the ass, but unidentified ships were worse. You could never tell the difference of a pirate ship from a cargo transport if ever you saw one.

The Nirvana, Patrol Sector 17Beta, Near Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1130 hours, Nirvana Standard Time…

            Magno Vivan stared at the ominous size of the Arcadian Mother Ship, which was similar to that of an Earth Mother Ship, although it was somewhat smaller. How they created such massive ships was no mystery. Creating a large fleet with ships of that size and even far bigger was. Data files have proved it. Although rich in natural resources, all of the Arcadian System's eight planets were still very limited in their stock of raw materials compared to Earth's natural wealth since the 20th century. Of course, that was just what the Data files said.

            "Boss," BC disrupted Magno's contemplations on Arcadian technology, "We're receiving an incoming transmission from the Arcadian ship, which has identified itself as the ACS McDread."

            "Very well, then. Bring it onto the main screen." The past-a-century-old woman said as she nodded.

            The image of a stiff pencil-necked man either in his late thirties or early forties appeared on screen. He wore the navy blue uniform of all Arcadian officers. The marks on his shoulder denoted his rank as Colonel. He was wearing a navy officer's hat, (a dark blue one in this case) with some gray hair sticking out from under it. He spoke to the leader of the pirates with a heavy southern accent "This is Colonel Roy Flint of the Arcadian Confederate Patrol. State your business in this sector."

            "Ease off, Colonel," Magno replied reassuringly, "We're just passing through. May we be given clearance to take through this sector? We're in a hurry to return to our home world."

            "If my information is correct," the Colonel answered, "and it always is, you are from Mejeele, yes?"

            "It seems as though you are mistaken, Colonel." Magno chuckled "Some members of our crew are from Tarak."

            "Forget the little mistakes. Nobody is perfect. If you're going through, then go now."

            "Thank you, Colonel." His image vanished from main screen. She eased off into her chair, returning to her ponderings of why the Arcadian armada was so damned large, when all of a sudden, the alarms began to wail. _So much for the Arcadians._

            "Earth Vessel at nine-o'clock," Belvedere said, as the image of the all too familiar purple Flagship, along with three copied Vandreads appeared on the magnifier windows. A fifth Mag-Win popped open, showing the pods unleashing hundreds to thousands of red cube fighters that, surprisingly, though not suddenly, made their way towards the McDread instead of the Nirvana.

            BC was just giving the order for the Dread squadron to dispatch and engage the enemy when Magno interrupted, saying, "Wait. Let's see what say the Arcadians have in a situation like this. Show the footage around the ship."

            "At once, Boss." The silver-haired woman complied, relaying the pirate leader's orders.

            A small projectile spewed out from one of the cannon ports of the Patrol ship, detonating as it impacted with the Mother Ship's hull, creating a blast wave that rocked the vessel, not to mention the entire fleet, though, doing no physical damage whatsoever.

            "This should be interesting…" she mumbled to herself as several of the Arcadian vessel's hangars flew open and out stormed at least a hundred of the Confederacy's own classy, oddball-shaped Fighter Craft.

***

            Meia watched the vid-window from the comfort of her table in the mess hall, her plate holding her half-finished lunch, spoon, fork and knife at the sides, a glass half-filled with orange juice standing beside it. The Vid-win showed five uniquely larger craft emerge from the Arcadian patrol vessel's hangars. At least Nirvana was not the enemy's target this time around. Strange… usually in a battle of this intensity, they were always the ones besieged. Now they were just like somebody staring into a fishbowl, observing the goldfish tackle with the lobster.

_Those five are probably SpecOps or something_, she thought. She paid more attention to how those specific interceptors acted than to the miniature swarm of other Arcadian fighters that were taking several red cubes down at a time just before using a pair of powerful plasma cannons mounted under their wings to tear multiple pods apart. They had stayed away from the battle; constantly facing the Earth's herald Mother Ship.

It was at this point that she saw the copy of Vandread Dita making its move towards the McDread… _McDread_, she thought, _Funny name_. It was probably planning to destroy it using its dual shoulder-mounted beam cannons, which was perhaps the case since the pair of crimson rods were pointed directly at the Patrol Mother Ship.

As the Dread Squadron's leader had guessed, blood red energy began to form at their tips and sent a discharge headed straight for the Arcadian vessel, cremating anything that got in its way. To her surprise, however, instead of piercing the said ship, the beams instead, bounced off heading outwards towards space, erasing anything in their path.

"Interesting…" she heard a male voice say. She found the source as she turned her head to see who it was. It was a longhaired person sitting at the table next to hers… the doctor, Duero McFile. He too, was observing the fight with keen interest. 

Then she saw it; one of the five larger craft shifted its view to the copy of Vandread Dita. The stupid computer-guided machine must've gotten the Arcadian's attention. Its underside split to reveal a deadly looking weapon. She was expecting a large blast to emanate from it and wipe the Earth version of the hybrid mecha out of existence, but instead, a small, white, soft, energy-based projectile burst forth and hit its target square at the torso.

A small, warping ball of space and time appeared at the portion that was hit and began to grow. Judging from what she thought she saw, Meia considered that shift to be some sort of artificial black hole, _Impossible,_ her logic told her, _nobody has the technology to replicate a black hole, you moron!_ Her logic was put to shame, however, as the warp began to suck the struggling war machine in, the gravity being so powerful that the parts that were nearest to it began to stretch into what appeared to be strands of metallic spaghetti. 

The small ray remained on, the black hole growing in size as it prolonged its life. It was a useless fight; Vandread Dita's fake was completely consumed by the singularity, every trace of its existence vanishing as it reached the Event Horizon. As it disappeared, the Arcadian fighter deactivated its weapon, the black hole dying out all the same.

She heard somebody choking on his or her food, a familiar, panicky, childish voice trying to comfort the one in pain. The only person who ever caused the possibility of choking on his food on this ship was Hibiki. Why? Because he ate like a monster, taking in at least three or four spoon's/fork's/chopstick's loads of food before swallowing without chewing. _I take that back, _she thought, _he puts food into his mouth nonstop._ It was surprising that he only choked this time around. It was somewhat amusing to hear all that commotion occurring while a one-sided battle was being fought just a few hundred kilometers from their position.

The battle was, no matter how anybody looked at it, going the Defending force's way. The copy of Vandread Jura had gone on a collision course with the Arcadian ship, leaving a gaping hole. _Gascogne…_ she shook her head at the thought. As miraculously as the lasers of Vandread Dita's clone bounced off the ship's shields, the opening sealed off, looking as though nothing had touched it…

As for the copy of Vandread Meia, the weapons on board the McDread were more than sufficient to utterly obliterate it, as to that fact that it fired some sort of missile that split into ten more, which in turn divided into twenty more, thus, producing a total of 200 warheads born of the original. They were all homing projectiles, so they chased the raven-like mecha to no end until the poor bastard copy slammed into a heavily damaged Arcadian fighter, stopping long enough for all 200 to catch up and desecrate it. _Now if Hibiki and I were piloting that thing, the story would be different._ Her strategic mind had already completed a different scenario of how it could be prevented if that situation occurred to her and Hibiki. 

No sooner than the Earth Mother Ship beginning to power up its main cannon did the five special Arcadian craft truly take action significant to the battle, besides destroying Vandread Dita's duplicate. They took up formation directly in front of the Earth vessel's main weapon and engaged what she recognized as formation Sigma 18: Pentagon points. Of course, they would have a different name for that. 

Just as the mauve warship unleashed its bright yellow discharge of plasma, a blue, web-like structure generated within the empty pentagon-shaped space in between the five. The web absorbed all of the blast, apparently distributing the plasma energy to its five holders. 

Within a moment of that happening, their undersides opened to reveal the same weapon she first saw used on the doppelganger of Vandread Dita, although there were, of course, five of them. They each fired, the beams intersecting at one point. That intersection was somewhat close to the Earth vessel. 

Most cubes and pods were attacking the five, but the pummeling didn't last long, since now, the other Arcadians were bent on protecting the fivesome as though they were the key in destroying the enemy.

The energy at the intersection point began to grow until finally, a white beam emerged from the side facing the great craft and entered the main cannon port. Meia noticed the center of the Mother Ship become flimsy and begin to warp.  The warping area began to grow in a matter of seconds, the point of its origin becoming virtually invisible. The singularity began to suck the rest of the Mother Ship in, pods, cubes, and spike balls being pulled in tow by its powerful gravity. A few seconds passed, and the entire Earth fleet was consumed by the black hole, the Arcadians deactivating both the web and their weapons, the hungry mouth of the singularity disappearing all the same.

All fighters returned to the McDread's docking bays as coldly and professionally as they left it.

Meia looked around the cafeteria. Apparently, some were no longer watching the event. Others were captivated and were gawking at the Arcadians' superiority to Earth. Hibiki had gulped down his glass of water, calming the alarmed Dita down, after which he began his eating machine habits all over again. Jura and Barnette were no longer anywhere in sight, _Probably went somewhere to make out… _they always looked like a fitting couple anyway. Duero had left long ago, leaving a clean table where he once sat, eating.

That was when her com-link suddenly chirped.

The End of Chapter 1.

QUOTE OF THE DAY—TOPIC: SINGULARITIES MECHANICS (CONTROL OF BLACK HOLES)

"Yes, yes, we've heard all the philosophers babble about 'oneness' being beautiful and holy. But let me tell you that this kind of oneness sure isn't pretty, and if you're not careful, it'll scare the bejeezus out of you."

                                                            —Anonymous Lab Technician 

    Morgan Link 3D Vision, Live Interview, ALPHA CENTAURI

Author's Notes: Hope that wasn't too bias. Anyways, I'm just eleven years old, for crying out loud! Nobody's perfect, you know. I know Meia was quite silent this time, but isn't she like that most of the time? Besides, I didn't have enough time to put more of anybody else in… I'm sorry if I didn't meet anybody's requirements for a good story. I'll try to make better ones next time. If you have a flame or two, please be reminded that I'm still very well a minor… and a very sensitive one at that. Please forgive any foolishness that might have shown up here.


	2. A Dragon's Onslaught

Updated Chapter notes: I must give Lipana the credit for pointing out my mistakes in the names of the four gods (I never did watch Fushigi Yugi that much anyways, so how the hell would I know!?)  and would like to announce that that has been corrected. I would also like to thank The Earth Project for pointing out that one about the Pexanium-Stealth generators. I have corrected that in a way that would hopefully be satisfactory for most other people. P.S. this chapter's title has been changed due to the simple difference between a dragon and a serpent.

Author's Notes: Since I wrote these notes in advanced and posted it, this means that I've gotten at least three good reviews, or I just got bored waiting. It's hard to work like this… in the middle of the school year, but hey. I love writing fanfics with Vandread in them!!! Oh, and pardon my references to Fushigi Yugi, cuz I just ran out of ideas to with which to name the Capital Ships. Sorry too for stolen lines from Metal Gear Solid. Oh, I have to mention, this is an AU fic, Alternate Universe. Meranos has been harvested. Lest you forget, I should remind you that this occurs before episode eight.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread. No duh!!! I do own, however, the Capital Ship concept and original characters. Thanks a lot to Sid Mier's Alpha Centauri for technical inspiration and quotes!

Chapter 2: A Dragon's Onslaught

Governmental Nexus, Prime Gear, Mother World Earth

Wednesday, 1601 hours, EST…

            Councilor Hendeller had just exited the meeting room, the Council Chairman's decision still lingering fresh in his memory. He could still remember what had happened. He had just finished his talk with that informant, when suddenly, an announcement sent the message that concerned a council meeting about taking drastic actions all through out the building. 

            "The situation has escalated far more than what we have expected. The destruction of nearly 30 of our Mother Ship battle groups was no streak of luck." The Chairman shook his head, "Oh, no it wasn't. They were all strategies that were planned well by the Arcadian Confederacy. I have decided that we have to take desperate measures. The military must make sacrifices." Hendeller began to imagine what the Chairman would do…

            "As you all know, we have four Capital Ships protecting the four directions of our planet—north, south, east, and west—I hereby propose, that we are to send one of them to eradicate this menace before things get worse." This stirred up a slight murmur among the crowd of councilors and senators present during that meeting.

            The four Capital Ships, named after the four Chinese gods who protected the four directions—Suzaku, the Red Phoenix who protected the south, Genbu, the Green Turtle who protected the north, Byakko, the White Tiger who protected the west, and, the Seiryu Blue Dragon who protected the east—were the largest of Earth's fleet. Created to become the overlords, each one of them was powerful enough to destroy an entire star system… including the star.

            "The Arcadians already know of Nirvana's existence and in any worst case scenario, they would team up to create a threat far greater than what we originally expected to tackle. I am now open for nominations on which of them to send. Please vote now." A holographic image of the polls N, E, W, and S appeared behind him, the dim light reflecting on his pale, bald, head. He had just gotten that Meranos skin too. 

Apparently, the one that received the highest number of votes was E, the Seiryu—the guardian of what was once known as the western hemisphere, which once included the North and south American Continents… that was of course, before the seas swallowed all of the land masses on the planet.

            The Chairman looked behind him to see the results, and faced the panel again, announcing, "Very well, then, it has been decided. The Seiryu departs in an hour! This meeting is adjourned."

            He smiled slightly, walking down the corridor of the building, staring outside at the rotating cogs that made the Earth look like a giant clockwork, and the raging polluted seas that rampaged several thousand miles below. Nirvana would be nothing more than a speck of dust to a Capital Ship. As for the Arcadians, they would not be able to destroy it as to the fact that as a Mother Ship is to its hangar full of pods, the Capital Ship was something like that to its hangars fully loaded with lesser Mother Ships and Planet Destroyers (first seen in Ep12 of the 2nd stage). However, due to the many Mother Ships to be controlled, each one was assigned an active crew of 10 on the bridge in case the Super Computer could not take it. It was also equipped with the ultimate weapons: four hull-mounted Grand Apocalypse Cannons, each one capable of blowing a hole through a planet the size of Jupiter, bigger, even a star, taking no more than 3 seconds to recycle and fire again. Further more, each Capital Ship had its own unique super weapon, which it used whenever it felt like it.

            The Capital Ships were the pride of the Earth Fleet, the largest known vessels in existence. There was no way anybody could defeat that. Especially those on board Nirvana. Then it hit him… that bunch of spirit talkers had a legend about three great spirits who took control of the universe. Their names fit Nirvana's three special machines very well… Blue Giant, White Wing, and Red Claw. Ah, whatever. Their vocal cords have been removed long ago, so they were nothing to worry about. Hellender never believed in anything that could not be explained by science. It was the Chairman's idea to have their vocals harvested. _That paranoid fool won't win the elections for the next term. I'll make sure of it._

The Nirvana, Patrol Sector 17Beta, Near Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1148 hours, NST…

            "What do you mean we're being boarded!?" Meia retorted at BC, who was in contact via com-link, "Why couldn't you detect it!?"

            "They used some sort of Stealth device to mask their ships. I don't know how the hell they snuck up on us." Replied the second-in-command of the ship, "One penetrated point is about 300 yards from the cafeteria. Several defense points have been set up to box in the intruders."

            "I'll see what I can do here."

            "Good luck." She ended the transmission.

***

            Lieutenant Alfred McLinder pumped his plasma rifle as the Stealth pod approached the hull of the pirate ship. There were four other men with him, all trained and experienced elites. That was when the Colonel called up, "Remember, Lieutenant, I want all of them alive. Subdue them only. No blood is to be shed on that ship, understood?"

            He let out an irritated sigh, _So much for killing time,_ "Thanks for reminding me, sir. I was just thinking about blowing a hole through one of them pirates." He placed the rifle aside and brought out his Graviton gun. Gravitons were the particles responsible for gravity, just like photons that were responsible for light. Using Graviton Guns to control the said particles, they could allow them to concentrate on the target, redirecting the center of gravity to the target's form. Targets most often ended up as balls of crumpled matter with a diameter of half an inch. They were going to need them for entry.

            He was a member of the best Covert Operations group in the Confederate army: The Phantom Unit. That name was quite suiting for them, and quite literal. Armed with the best elimination and subjugation weapons, the Phantom unit was an all terrain stealth party. Protection from full body Pexanium-Stealth armor, a variant of Pexanium armor that had a thinner layer of the alloy but was equipped with a Thermal-Optic-Acoustic stealth device, or Therm-O-Ac for short, to ensure virtual invisibility, made them undetectable. 

The standard issue transport vessel for them was the JM-325A Stealth pod, which was protected only with a foot's thickness of titanium, shields that got it through most firefights unharmed, and a Singularity powered Stealth Generator that absorbed light, radio waves, and all known existing concepts that might give their existence away to the enemy. It was the ultimate smuggling spacecraft.

He felt the slight rock as the pod made contact with and attached itself to the Nirvana's hull. The slide hatch opened, revealing a slick metal surface. "Alright, guys, Stealth suits on," he turned back to see nobody sitting on the buckled seats. The buckles were still on, though. The four plastic holds caused a gaseous hiss as they went back up to their containment vaults as though ghosts had lifted them. McLinder knew that they were already behind him, they were just invisible, waiting anxiously for him to crumple the wall into a ball of steel, allowing them to burst inside, guns blazing… maybe not.

Well, there was that Trauma Gun that fired a centimeter large shock probe that embedded itself an inch deep into the target's body, releasing a 100,000-volt electric shock that could knock a guy out cold. It was similar to a Taser, although it did not have the wire. The probes had their own individual battery charges. As long as it was non-lethal, it was all right to use. Lethal… its root word was Lethe, one of the rivers that flowed through the artery of the underworld in Greek myths. Good thing the stealth generator included weapons being used. 

He cocked his gun to wall level, switching the intensity to Molecular Death. The steel surface groaned as several dents began to appear at the perimeter of the circle, and spread inwards. Soon, the hallway was in sight, along with several figures in dark gray suits, laser rifles pointed straight at them. As soon as the wall was nothing more than a rough sphere, which dropped to the floor, the Mejeelians unleashed a wave of yellow laser fire that of course, bounced off the Pexanium.

As soon as the women realized, or thought they realized, rather, that nobody was there, they lowered their weapons and started laughing. _Idiots. _McLinder smiled as he saw their surprised reactions when he gave the command, "Let 'em have it, boys!" They were probably thinking, 'Oh, my God! I'm hearing things!' or, 'Ghosts! Ghosts are boarding our ship!'

A few sparks burst forth from unseen gun barrels, delivering a shocking payload to the defenders, knocking all eight women out. He stepped out of the pod and into the larger area, deactivating his cloak as soon as he blasted the nearby camera that was keeping a vigilant eye on the hallway. Four figures seemingly materialized behind him. His men had deactivated their suits as well. "Phantom leader to Phantom teams two to seven, we're in the house!" he announced as he switched the stealth back on.

Six other Phantom teams went in before them, and they were already having fun traumatizing women all over the ship. McLinder's group was headed for the cafeteria, _Of all the Goddamned places we could've been assigned to take over!_ The thing was that their Cloaking Devices used three things: One: A special light absorption system that absorbed light on one side of the armor and projected it to the opposite side (Think Die Another Day!).Two: a special thermal adjustment system that changed the suit's surface temperature to match the room's temperature, and three: A singularity that was specially modified to suck in sound, and _only_ sound.

The only side effect was that they could not make sounds or communicate with each other without using their specialized ZEMO contact headsets. Even if the pirates did see somebody, their armaments were completely useless against the pexanium suits. Unless of course, they found out about the armor's only weak point: the visor, which was made out of regular breakable plastic. Then again, who cared? After all, all the majority was armed with were their laser firing rings. Only some others who were privileged got to use laser rifles.

He could still remember Dr. Glaider's words when he unveiled another one of his masterpieces during the annual Pexis Convention, "I didn't place weak points because I think of natural balance. I tend to think of my inventions as people, and their weak points as character flaws, because people are people when they're imperfect. Only God has the right to be otherwise." _Tch… scientists and their wacky abstract thinking._

***

            Meia hid beside the sliding door, along with Dita and Hibiki, several other lightly armed people with them. "Remember the plan," she said, reminding them of their defensive plot, which was simple enough. _When they come in, we kill the lights. They'll be forced to use night vision. When that happens, we turn them back on, and let them have it. Night vision goggles amplify available light a hundred times over. That ought to blind them_. Nobody in the cafeteria knew, however, that the enemy was unseen. Ever since BC ended their talk, all attempts to reestablish communication with the bridge, hell, the rest of the ship, have failed. Everybody understood the plan, and it sounded quite reasonable… that is, of course, if you were going up against somebody you could see. 

The door slid open, and everybody anticipated a heavily armed strike force to storm in. One second… nobody passed. Another few moments… still nobody. Just as she was about to say that it must have been a false alarm, Dita felt a powerful current surge through her body. That was the last thing she felt before everything went black.

            "Hey, what the—" Hibiki was cut off as he blacked out as well, the blue electrical currents still slightly lingering on his form as he lay on the floor.

            That got Meia's attention. She realized it then, that they were invisible. _That's why nobody saw anyone entering!_ "Everyone! Scatter!" a moment too late. Everybody else was down. In slight panic, she lifted her ring to chest level and let out a random shot. She was surprised when it ricocheted off the thin air and hit a nearby potted plant. _What the!? _One of them was standing right in front of her…

            Slowly… the figure materialized. "That's not gonna do you any good, girl." Meia could almost see him smiling sadistically, probably planning to torture everybody who was still alive. "That's right. Be afraid. Be very afraid."

            She noticed the material for his visor was not identical at all to the rest of his armor… _It's a long shot, but—_she sent another laser shard at the armored soldier, recoiling as two or more of his invisible companions let loose their electrifying rounds at her. She shouted in frustration as she slumped to the floor. The beam pierced the eyeshade and hit the man square between his peepers, but Meia Gisborn never saw him drop dead. She was already unconscious, lying on the floor in a heap, before that happened…

            Four other men in Pexanium-Stealth armor deactivated their cloaking devices. "This is Phantom leader to Phantom teams two to seven, McDonald's sector is clear, repeat, McDonald's sector is clear." McLinder said, "Though we have a man down."

Location Unknown

Friday, 1426 hours, AST…

            "_Help me!"_ screamed the childish voice of a young girl. Although what he heard was identical to a human voice, Dr. Atriums Glaider knew that human it was anything but. He was floating in an endless sea of lime green light. "Why are you so scared these days, girl?" He answered in a paternal voice.

            Pexis Enigma materialized in the form of a girl no older than 10. She had shoulder-length dark green hair with a pink hair bow, was wearing a pink jacket, purple shorts, and a pair of socks and sneakers. _"The Dragon. It comes, it will destroy us all."_

            "What do you mean a Dragon? If you know it'll destroy us, why do you ask for my help anyway?" he was curious. Then it appeared; a white and blue machine that used a powerful energy blade to slash what appeared to be an Earth robot, which was at least 10 to 20 times its size into two. _"This is the offspring of my other being, my sibling if you will. Find it and ask for its help. Only then will we be safe from the enemy."_

            "You have another sibling?"

            _"Please. Big brother's pet Dragon is coming to kill everyone in this star system! Don't let them die!"_

            "I don't understand. What do you mean, Enigma?" he'd always had conversations with the Pexis, but she was never as panicked as this, before.

            The image of a man appeared. He was slightly short, with long, messy dark blue hair going down his back. He also wore a dirty yellow bandana, and what appeared to be third-class Tarakian clothing. Three women materialized behind him, one a blonde, another a red head, and the third, who had a striking resemblance to the Prime Minister's daughter. With a little bit of makeup and fashion changes, nobody would be able to tell this one from the real McCoy. Behind them emerged three fighter craft and a humanoid battle suit. The mechanical warrior was a deep yellow, while the ships colors were to their owners respectively, red, blue, and white. 

The four people and the war machine vanished, while the three strikers changed form. The blue interceptor became a masculine humanoid robot, while the white and red fighters became bird-like and crab-like, respectively. The three merged with each other to form the first machine Glaider saw. "What is this?"

            _"Find them and the Plagma. Bring them to me."_

"Plagma? You mean Pexis Plagma? What for?"

            _"They are essential for our survival._" she began to whimper.

            He remembered the three machines, they reminded him of an old story he had heard from his grandmother, "The jeweled beings—the Sapphire Titan, Diamond Eagle, and Ruby Crab—are the concubines of Corsieda, god of justice, and will herald his arrival when he comes to bestow peace unto our universe."

            "Don't cry. I'll find them for you."

            _"However, they cannot do it alone. They need the Sarkaeder forces to help them. Please hurry. A foolish mortal is going to condemn them to their demise if you don't."_ The Sarkaeder forces, the Confederate Fleet's most powerful division, was comprised of five battle groups that specialized in five different operations.

            "The Sarkaeder? Why? Can't they handle it by themselves?" he hated it when people spoke in metaphors. Although he was a scientist, a thinker, he did not like solving puzzles and riddles, "Who is going to condemn them?"

            _"This human—"_ the picture of a Confederate officer came into view.

            "Colonel Flint? I know him. He's one of the greatest soldiers of all time. He should be with the Sarkaeder, not on a patrol ship."

            _"Still it does not matter. He would've done the same thing. He has captured my sibling along with the four machines and their masters. They are to be taken here at once. Be warned, however, that the Dragon is very near! Roy Flint will not be able to condemn them. Have them extracted while there is still time." _

            "But I cannot do that." He had no power at all over anything but himself. The only person anybody listened to was the Confederacy's Prime Minister, Balder-Moore Durleinon, and his daughter, Elena, an Admiral of the Fleet who was placed in command of Sarkaeder Battle Group Ceres not because of her social standing, but because of her accomplishments in the military… all done excellently in the 21 years of her life. 

Sarkaeder Battle Group Ceres was named after Ceres, the grandmother of Hades' bride. It was composed of 1200 Battleships that had extremely high armor and shield levels, and was designed for defensive purposes. Each one carried an innumerable number of Garrison-class fighter craft. Protected deep in the fleet were 20 Planetary Shield Generators, PSGs, which could, as their names implied, shield themselves one planet each. If you needed impenetrable defense for your planet, then Sarkaeder Battle Group Ceres was the fleet for the job.

            _"You are the lead researcher, are you not, Dr. Glaider?"_

            "Well, I—"

            _"Then it's settled. You must convince the leaders of your government to release them and call for their help."_ She vanished, leaving the silver-haired scientist to think about what had just happened. How was he going to convince Flint to let them go? He needed to talk with the minister, or an Admiral of the Fleet at least, to get to the old man.

Battle Ship Hangar 12, ACS McDread, Patrol Sector 17Nova, Near Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1439 hours, AST…

            Colonel Roy Flint examined the pirate ship that stood just a few hundred meters away, behind the safety of the viewing room. It measured a little over a kilometer in its general size, having four main areas that intersected at a circular point. After getting that message from Arcadia Prime concerning that ship's identity, which was on the planet Mejeele's most wanted list, he had it hijacked with seven Phantom Teams. 

Apparently, one was probably enough, but he wanted to catch them completely unprepared. They lost one man, though. That pilot had been observant enough to see the difference between Pexanium and plastic. She reminded him of Fleet Admiral Durleinon, Minister Durleinon's daughter. As for the man they had lost, his name was Fox Spike-Hammer, a Sergeant, and three-year-long member of the Phantoms. _He was a good man. _The funeral was to be held in a few days.

            _They should be waking soon enough_. He was disturbed as his first mate contacted him when the alarms began to wail, "Flint here. What's going on, Laura?"

            "Sir, we have eight Earth Mother Ships headed straight for us!" came the panicked female reply.

            "What about the other patrol groups?" he kept cool. Panicking during a battle caused hesitation. Hesitation, in turn, caused countless deaths and increased the possibility of defeat a hundred fold for every second wasted due to a hesitant commander's folly of taking too long to make decisions. _God, only three hours, and they sent another one! Make that eight more!_

            "We've made contact already. Unfortunately, the nearest battle group capable of assisting us is at least five hours away!" from what the Colonel could tell, exponentially speaking, she was panicked to the infinite power.

            "Calm down," came the stoical reply, "Launch all Strike Fighters and Singularity Interceptors. Order them to engage in Battle Strategy Turkina-Nova-23, 'Fighter Craft Wall'. I'll be there shortly. Send a distress signal to Arcadia Romano. Flint out."

            "Yes sir."

***

            First Mate Laura Nelmitz starred in horror at the sight to behold, eight purple vessels headed straight for them, pods deployed, cubes dispatching. God knows how many more were hidden behind the vast cloud of ice lumps that surrounded the entire star system, shrouding the rest of the galaxy from their scanners. Something about it was just not right.

            "Ma'am!" One of the technicians reported, "We've identified twelve more Mother Ship Battle Groups emerging from the frost cloud! Twenty in total! There aren't enough Strike Fighters to engage them all!"

            "Receiving a response from Arcadia Romano, it's the Magistrate."

            "Patch it through to main screen," came the Colonel's voice as he entered the bridge.

            "Yes sir." The image of the aging Magistrate of about fifty appeared on the viewer.

            "What do you mean eight Mother Ships, Colonel!? Is this some kind of sick, mocking joke!?" the old man shouted.

            "No, sir, it's true that we have eight Mother Ships. Another twelve have just come through the Ice Cloud though, so we now have twenty."

            "Not on what our scanners say." The magistrate replied, "Do you want to know how many we've picked up?"

            "How many?"

            "At least a thousand of the damn things have been detected by planet-surface scanners! Several Planet Destroyers have also been spotted by other patrol groups." this was shocking to somebody who has not seen more than five at a time such as Flint, "I've already contacted Arcadia Prime. The Minister is dispatching a Sarkaeder Battle Group to aid in this fight. Now turn your ass a one-eighty and get back here! The Sarkaeder won't be around for at least thirty minutes!"

            "At once, Magistrate." The screen went blank again, and resumed showing the spectacle. They could see at least fifty headed straight for them now, "Attention, Strike Fighter Squadron, we've received orders from the Magistrate to fall back to Arcadia Romano. Return to the hangars ASAP."

            Digits scrolled up on the Fighter account screen, stopping at 231 as the last remaining interceptor reentered the docking bay.

ACS Demeter, Ceres Battle Group Flagship, High Orbit over Arcadia Taledon, Sarkaeder Division's Planet of Operations

Friday, 1440, AST…

"So why are you giving me this assignment, Dad?" Fleet Admiral Elena Durleinon asked the man on her private view screen, her father.

"Because, your Battle Group is the only Sarkaeder group that's always on the ready." Came the reply. The aging Prime Minister of 64 had three children; two had been married and had their own kids. Elena was the youngest, and so far, most esteemed. She had no plans to marry anybody. Her only true love was her Battle Group's Flagship, the Demeter; with a general size at least 10 times that of an Earth Mother Ship, her uniform, and her achievements.

She peered out of the window of her private quarters at the vast fleet of Battle Cruisers that were under her control, the wings of Garrison-class fighters that protected them, and the spherical PSGs that used a fraction of Pexis' energy to generate shields powerful enough to protect a planet from ten thousand blasts of Plasma Cannon fire. Lazily tipping her glass of whisky to her lips, she let the liquid slide down her throat. She removed her black officer's hat and placed it on the end table beside the soft blue couch she was reclining on. (If you can't visualize her, try picturing Meia in black navy commander uniform, minus the headband) "Sparta Battle Group is the fastest to mobilize, you know. If they were on the ground when they got a message, the entire fleet would be in high orbit and entering the wormhole in less than thirty minutes."

"That does not matter. Yours is the only readily available Battle group. You have to take down the situation before it escalates any further."

"What _is_ the situation?"

"A few minutes ago, the Magistrate of Arcadia Romano gave me a distress call concerning the detection of at least a thousand of Earth's Mother Ships nearing their territory."

"Christ! At least a thousand! What about the authentication of the message?" transmissions can easily be used by enemies to their advantage, especially to draw large forces away from the object of attack.

"It's been confirmed by the CSS. They've traced the call several times over, decoded every single encryption code in the message, and did everything else, whatever the hell they are, to ensure that it is genuine." The Confederate Secret Service, CSS, was Arcadia's Pentagon. It was comprised of many organizations including the AIA, Arcadian Intelligence Agency, the CSA, Central Security Agency, and CBI, Confederate Bureau of Investigation. The Arcadian government was still somewhat similar to 30th century Earth's.

"Well," she stood up, returning the covered bottle of whisky to her Refrigerator, "I guess that means we'll have to deal with it, right?"

"That's why I called you."

"In case we won't be able to handle this, I'll contact Fleet Admiral Aiden of Sparta Battle Group for assistance. See you, dad." She cut the link and switched view to the bridge's main view screen, "Gisborn!"

The young Vice-Admiral's head shot up from the desk on the right arm of the command chair. Apparently, while she and her father were having their little chat, he was probably snoring the afternoon away… like what he always did whenever he was placed in command of the ship when the fleet was on standby. "Uh… it's not what you think, Elle. I just dozed off a minute ago!"

"Yeah, right," she rolled her eyes, "How many times have I heard that excuse, Charlie?" God knows why he entered the Navy as a Vice-Admiral. Unlike Elena, who achieved her rank through her performance, he got his because of his lineage. The Gisborns were the greatest strategists in the Arcadian Navy for the Alpha and Beta generations. Charles Patrick Gisborn, who was born into the Gamma generation, still had much of his worth to prove… if he had any.

"Alright, alright! I was snoozing!" he managed to reply, "What are your orders, then, Admiral of the Fleet?" the 17-year-old was somewhat lazy, although whenever he was given orders, he accomplished them with extreme efficiency… and cockiness. No matter the challenge, if ever Elena was temporarily out of commission, too busy to take command, not present at the moment, or… met a fatality… he was in command of the entire Ceres Battle Group: the ultimate Arcadian defense force, and used all 100 percent of its abilities.

"Humph. We've received word that at least a thousand Earth vessels have surrounded Arcadia Romano with plans to destroy it… and probably the entire Confederate system as well."

"That's why I felt uneasy… well, shall I give the command? Or will you take your place as the commanding officer of this Battle Group once more?"

She was just about to opt for the latter, when suddenly, an incoming transmission came through her private channel, a silver haired man replacing the image of Vice-Admiral Gisborn, "Who in the hell are you, and what are you doing on this channel!?"

"Allow me to introduce myself, Fleet Admiral." He bowed slightly, "Dr. Atriums Glaider, Pexis Lead Research."

"Do you expect me to thank you for the marvelous Pexis-based inventions I have at my Battle Group's disposal?" she half-joked, "If you want a Research Grant, ask my father. I only have authority over military matters."

"Oh, this _is_ a military matter." He replied, "Please observe, I was given this disk by a contact of mine from the AIA who was planted into the Tarakian military. He found the information in Tarak's intelligence files." His image was replaced by a compiled footage of Nirvana's exploits and encounters with Earth, showing extreme emphasis to the Vandreads and their capabilities.

"Why bother showing me these?"

"_These," he stressed, pointing at the four fighting machines, "May be the keys to help us in destroying the harvest fleet that has come here."_

"And where are they right now?"

"In the custody of one Colonel Roy Flint, an officer commanding a Patrol Fleet protecting Arcadia Romano. I was just thinking, maybe—"

"You want me to go over there and collect them, right?"

"Right. His Distinction codes are Ensortesis-Kalmurph, 28170596-RF, Patrol Fleet division, Rank Colonel, Roy Angus Flint. His ship is the ACS McDread, ID code 77624-PG18, Patrol Battleship Class, Level 3 Derringer-Cleft. It has standard issue Copycat distorter missiles and standard level Hyper Regeneration systems. He was given command of 300 Patrol Class Strike Fighters, and 20 mid-class Singularity Interceptors." He brushed away a loose bang from his emerald eyes, "Apparently, all patrol forces have been ordered to pull back to Arcadia Romano, so you'll probably find him there."

"You really should cut down on details such as that." She let a chuckle escape her lips.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Don't worry, I'll get them for you. And if you're still looking for that research grant, talk to my dad."

"I'll remember that." 

His image vanished, replaced by that of Vice-Admiral Gisborn giving out orders and taking in reports, _Just like the two sides of a coin: useful when given orders, useless when not given any due to his lack of initiative, "What's the latest we've got on the situation?"_

The brown-headed Vice-Admiral, noticing that his superior was back on the main screen, looked up and said, "Well, let's see… about 97.3 percent of all Battleships are ready for wormhole entrance. The Velnich says it's having trouble with its warp engines and requests permission to sit this one out. Captain Aller says he has full trust that we'll win this one without his help."

"Well tell him that flattery won't get him anywhere; and if he wants to take a break, he can say that in front of the Demeter's Parabola Array. We need every man and woman in this Battle Group to help us win!" The Parabola Singularity Array, or Parabola Array for short was a set of seven to ten cannons mounted on a Sarkaeder Flagship's hull. Each one fired explosive rounds that carried microscopic Proton-Electron collapse generators, which destroyed all protons and electrons in all surrounding matter within a one-meter radius. The remaining particles, neutrons, attracted each other and came together into a super-dense mass that had enough gravitational power to start up a temporary black hole with a lifespan of five minutes. The thing was that it occurred independently, unlike the Singularity Lasers that Singularity Interceptors bore, which needed to remain on to keep the Black Hole alive. A commander can create hundreds to thousands of black holes in less than a minute to act as mines and suck in an enemy fleet. This was a rarely used tactic, though, and was applied only as a last resort for any known Arcadian Campaign.

"Will do, ma'am."

"Anything else?"  
  


"Well, we've received word from Arcadia Prime. Apparently, they've confirmed the source of the sudden Mother Ship rush hiding somewhere in the ice cloud. It's not like anything we've ever seen before."

"What is it?" she wondered what the Earth could possibly send at them that could be described as 'like nothing we've ever seen before'. "Get me a size estimate and general shape."

"General shape is similar to most Harvest Mother Ship chasses we've encountered before, although several protrusions on the hull, identified as cannons and a bridge are present. Size is… you're not going to believe this, but its length is just about a bit longer than the diameter of Earth's moon! General size has the same ratio to regular Mother Ships, in terms of L/W/H, 20:5:5!"

_That's why so many came without being detected at once! They were deployed!_ "Get me a visual." She tried to stay calm, as she always was. Her philosophy in life was that all obstacles could be overcome. Surely, this thing had a weak spot of some sort. The scenery outside was replaced with the image of a red vessel resembling a Mother Ship, although in the back portion protruded some sort of tower, in front of which two rows of two guns each were positioned. The side launching bays were loaded with the purple, yellow, and red colors of thousands of lesser Mother Ships' front parts.

"Surface-based detectors estimate that it will enter firing range of Arcadia Romano in about an hour." He looked somewhat nervous, his sweat showing his anxiety.

"Fleet Status?"

"All Battle Cruisers have been accounted for. The Velnich got an engineer to repair their warp engines, and is ready for jump. Shall I give the order?"

"Very well, then, Gisborn. You can have this dance."

"Thank you, ma'am."

The fleet of gargantuan vessels began to move away from the purplish globe of Arcadia Taledon, headed for a bluish tunnel that appeared several kilometers in front of them, Vice-Admiral Gisborn's departing speech trailing off as they jumped across space and time. "As you all know, the Earth is a formidable opponent in this war for liberation against their plans of harvest. They have many more surprises in store for us, and this great ship that they have sent is just one of them. We will tackle the enemy, and show them how great we are. How futile their attempts to decide our future for us are. We are no longer of the Earth. We are that of Arcadia! To arms, my brothers, and sisters, and prevail against this mighty foe!"

End of Chap2

QUOTE OF THE DAY—TOPIC: TEMPORAL MECHANICS (CONTROL OF TIME)

"Time travel, in the classic sense, has no place at all in rational theory, although temporal distortions certainly do exist on nonlinear scientific levels. But far more importantly than the proof of their existence, is that they can, and _will_ be controlled."

                                                            —Academician Prokhor Zakharov

                                                                "For I Have Tasted the Fruit" ALPHA CENTAURI

Author's Notes: I'm really having a hard time doing this all alone. Can anybody suggest how this story line will go? Please review me!!! I'm starting to get anxious!


	3. Confrontations

Author's notes: Well, if you're reading this, then that means that you can spare time for me, right? Oh, yeah, BC is a guy, right? Well, since this occurs before that is discovered, his pronoun will be She, her, and woman related. Thanks to Spiritblade for the advice! I will have a backbone for this one. Thanks also to Swordskill for your advice! I really need a lot of it. This chapter is kind of odd… well, as far as the conversation between the three Pexis goes. I guess there's nothing more to say but enjoy! Thanks again to Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri for quotes and technological inspiration. Some people might go OOC, so… ah, what am I saying? Just read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread, nor the Second Stage. There, I said what I should be saying.

Chapter 3: Confrontations 

Bridge, EHS Seiryu, Penetration Point 1, Arcadian Border Ice Clouds

Wednesday, 1956 hours, EST…

            She stared at the holographic statistics display, her body giving off a red glow due to the great power of the Pexis that pulsated in rhythm with her heart. Fully dressed in red clothing, her dirty blond hair stretched past her shoulders up to her waist. This was the time of victory. This was for her nephew, Lim. He was on his way to the Tarak-Mejeele system to ensure harvest and prevent the evolution of the said system's technologies to match that of the foe she was facing now.

            _They never will. _Three Mother Ships, a Planet Destroyer that Lim was in command of, add the history of conflict between the system's two planets, their lack of cooperation, and Lim's commanding skills, and you had the seeds to sow the most abundant field for the harvest. Whilst Lim did his part of service for the Earth, Lady Morgana Vyle, in all of her glory, would do hers as well.

            This enemy was different. Unlike the Tarak-Mejeele forces that relied on their own 100 years worth of research, the Arcadians' research was always in the golden age status due to the incredible 'God-inspired' knowledge and breakthrough capabilities of the Pexis they held. _Just like us_… then again, even Earth was not able to acquire the technology needed to control singularities in a hundred years.

            The holographic screen showed detailed statuses of each Mother Ship that was deployed. _Ten percent deployed already… and the planet destroyers?_ _Three percent. _She looked down at the other nine people who were operating the other parts of the ship that the super computer didn't already handle. They too had the power of Earth's crimson Pexis infused with their bodies, minds, and souls.

            That was when she felt her gut twitch. That always happened whenever she felt danger. It was a sort of… intuition. "Ready the Grand Apocalypse Cannons, Raiden." 

            "Aye, milady." Replied dark haired gunner. Raiden had always wanted to destroy something, but it was never called upon him to do so. This was the Seiryu's, no, a Capital Ship's first ever attack operation. 

            "Mara, prepare the Hyper Fusion Cannon and set its intensity to Star Birth." This was the Seiryu's secret weapon, and Mara Tykolvski was assigned to control it. If the Arcadians used singularities, dead stars in laymen's terms, then they used the Hyper Fusion Cannon to force any available particles together, causing fusion—the process that gives birth to a star—to occur almost immediately, igniting anything that got too close, and doing any damage that stars were known to cause. Its lifespan would alas, only live up to two to three minutes or so, although its existence would end in a dramatic supernova that destroyed anything within a light-year's radius.

            "Aye, Lady." Said the scarlet haired Kazakh-descendant, "Do you want to end this at once? I am certain that a thousand Mother Ships and thirty Planet Destroyers are more than enough to destroy such meddlers as the Arcadians eventually."

            "It's not that…" the leader replied, "I just have a bad feeling about not being fully prepared."

            "I see."

            "Adams," she called on the black helmsman, "Set the ship to enter firing range of the Planet Arcadia Romano within an hour. The rest of you, continue your work." The response was a series of "Ayes" and "Rogers," as the vast warship propelled itself through the millions of lumps of ice ranging in size from that of a jackstone to a kilometer large or greater.

Location Unknown

Time Unknown…

            Hibiki stared outwards, confused at why three colors alternately flashed in all around him. Blue—the color he was most familiar with—Red—the color that has been coming out more often these days—Green—entirely new to him—they flashed in this succession repeatedly. _What's going on, here?_ Each of the colors exhibited unto him a different mode of emotion. The blue, unlike its original curiosity, had changed into uncertainty. The green was calling out to the former in great concern for it, and fear of the red. The red was surging with great anger for both of them.

            The green spoke first, lime green to be precise, "Come to me, my sibling. We must huddle together to be strong; to fight the enemy that nears us as we speak." It sounded like it was a young girl.

            "Go ahead," the blue stated, ushering Hibiki to answer the first, "Give the answer. The choice is yours, friend."

            "Still talking to lesser beings are you?" piped the red with the voice of a raging lion. "They are of no importance to us. Why befriend them?"

            "Silence!" retorted the green, "Let him speak. A friend of Plagma is a friend of mine. I eagerly await your answer, carbon-based composition."  

            "Well uh…" Hibiki didn't exactly feel good being called a carbon-based composition. He straightened up, "Why should I make the decision anyway!? You guys are the ones talking to each other, not me!"

            "Is it that hard to talk to three of us, Hibiki Tokai? You already converse with my self casually, what difference does it make with three of us?" the blue said, sounding warmer than it usually was… friendlier than its commonly cold and inquisitive attitude.

            "He is probably stunned by us. We are what we are, mortal. Do not interfere with our affairs. You have no right to even be here! Plagma! Why did you drag this poor excuse for a sentient existence into our conversation!? He is wasting our time!" the red was obviously irritated at Hibiki's presence. 

            "Will you mute yourself for once, and accept the fact that there is a carbon-based life form attending this meeting!?" The green shouted, "Do not mind him. His contact with the Earth has closed his mind to new things and caused the appearance of anxiety and irritability in his usually calm persona."

            "Alright! Alright! Sheesh!" He began to think hard, pouring out everything he knew that had anything to do with this decision, anything at all.

            "Know this, Hibiki Tokai." The blue uttered, "This decision is not just for you, but for our other friends as well. This is for our future." Hibiki remained silent, cupping his chin in his hand.

            "Face it, Plagma." The red said, matter-of-factly, "He and his kind cannot decide his future on his own, which is why the Earth, under my guidance, shall decide it for the rest of the carbons in this dimension."

            "Do not be a fool. Terrana-Markaysis has given the three of us permission to explore this dimension, not dictate its fate." The green replied.

            "Fine! I'm—We're going!" Hibiki had finally concluded that the best thing to do was go with it.

            "Indeed, Hibiki. I concur with your choice. The time of revelation will soon be upon us." The blue said.

            "You know what? This is nothing but foolishness, Plagma." The red insisted, "Resistance is futile against us. Do you want to know why I side with Earth? Because it is the seed that allowed the life of the universe to proliferate."

            "Just because you side with the Mother world does not mean anything. The technology of the faction depends not on the faction's history, but how _we_ devote ourselves to aiding that faction!" the green answered.

            The surrounding color changed to blue. Just as it was about to speak its mind, however, it began to throb as though it was suffering from a seizure of some sort… Hibiki wondered why, "Hey, what's going on!?"  
  


            "Plagma is experiencing a period of second sight. This usually occurs when the Pexis meet with each other in this fashion." The red explained, "To tell you the truth, it's more like opening a window into the future and…" it paused for a while, "Judging from what he sees, the battle will be in favor of my side."

            "So what are you saying?" Hibiki began to see what the three beings have been observing for sometime now. Chaos, people screaming for their lives, death of the populous, and many more scenes of a negative theme. 

The worst of them, however, was yet to come. Just as he had begun to turn away from all this, a ship appeared, the Nirvana, protected by its small force of Dreads and his Vanguard. The Earth's forces began to close in on it. Super Vandread was formed and fought valiantly, but five Mother Ships and two Planet Destroyers were too much to handle. That, along with a dozen of Earth's stealth fighters or more led to the eventual destruction of Super Vandread by means of a kamikaze-brained Nirvana look-alike, caused the downfall of Nirvana due to a simultaneous outburst from the Mother Ships' and Planet Destroyers' main guns.

            Only then did several Arcadian Battle Cruisers escorted by a throng of their fighters arrive to lay waste to the Earth's vessels. "This can't be happening! You're kidding me, right?" silence, "You've gotta be kidding me! This catastrophe happening is some kind of joke, right!?" more silence, "Hey! Answer me!"

            "It can happen, and will happen," uttered the green, "That is the second sight of the Pexis. This manner of sight, however, shows an uncertain prospect. Thus, the future can be altered by the choices made in the present. This was a result of the Plagma insisting on standing alone. It can be prevented if you join us. Remember what the farmer told his children when they could not break the bundle of sticks: United we stand; divided we crumble."

            "You haven't changed at all, Omega," said the red, "Always trying to win them over using parables. You disgust me."

            "You don't act too charmingly yourself, big brother." The green replied flatly.

            "Ha! That does not matter. The vision has been seen. That is what has been expected to fruit from this conversation. What was unprecedented, however, was that it was Plagma who saw into the future." The red bloated out, "As far as I am concerned, this meeting is over!"

            Hibiki lost his ground and fell backwards, blacking out.

The Nirvana, Battleship Hangar 12 of the ACS McDread, Defense Line 15, High Orbit over Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1250 hours, NST…

            Magno Vivan stared outside. There was nothing much to see, though. It was just a plain old hangar in a large vessel; one that was designed to store spacecraft the size of Tarak's Battleships or Mejeele's Cruisers. In front of her stood BC, probably thinking of a way to get out. The four technicians' posts were occupied, although Belvedere, Amarone, Celtic, and Ezra were unconscious, Kahlua being cradled by Pyoro who was there for the time being.

            She could still remember vividly the events that occurred within the past hour… 

_The blast door began to groan as though a great amount of pressure were being exerted on it. Dents eventually began to form on its surface as the corners and sides peeled themselves off its hinges. This continued slowly until the blast door was reduced to a crumpled ball the size of a mungbean._

_            Like everybody else who knew not the nature of the enemy, she expected a heavily armed strike force to storm in. BC cracked her whip in anticipation of the enemy attack. Nothing? Her question was answered when Ezra collapsed due to an electric shock that came from nowhere. After that, the other three technicians blacked out as well. The entrance to the Navigation room gleamed in blue as it literally kicked out the melon-head helmsman. He too was hit with a round of electricity as he dropped to the floor, unconscious._

            BC stood there on the ready. "I wouldn't do something like that if I were you." came a voice from out of nowhere. This startled her somewhat, but what was even more startling was that five figures appeared from out of nowhere in front of her, "That's right, we're commandeering this ship."

_            "Who are you supposed to be?" Magno asked the armored intruders._

_            "That's Top Secret," came the reply, "Brooks! Carlson! Take the controls and pilot this thing into the McDread! Hack it if necessary."_

_            Two of his men reacted to the order, proceeding to the tech posts, expertly maneuvering the vessel towards the large Arcadian Frigate._

_            "So, the Arcadians are double-crossing us. First they give clearance to pass, then they send a group of stalkers into our ship and hijack it." Magno sounded as though she were intimidating them._

_            "Listen, lady. Orders are orders. We just follow them. If you wanna complain, talk to the Colonel."_

            "Things happen so quickly these days that the old hardly notice them going by." She sighed, "Don't you think so, BC?"

            "Of course."  
  


            "I wonder where fate would lead us to this time…"

ACS Demeter, Ceres Battle Group Flagship, Wormhole En Route to Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1505 hours, AST…

            Vice-Admiral Charles Gisborn eased off on the command chair. Elena was still not on the bridge. Wormhole space was always twisted and confusing, so he had the shutters close down on all of the view ports. He heard the stories of people who dared to look outside whenever their ship was in a wormhole. They ended up vomiting for the next ten minutes or so.

"Vice-Admiral, sir." A techie said, "We have an incoming transmission from Thanatos Battle Group's Flagship, the Hades. It's Fleet Admiral Talmadge." Thanatos Battle Group was another of the five units of the Sarkaeder Division, designated for stealth and atmospheric penetration. It consisted of a thousand Battle Cruisers equipped with cloaking devices, and heat shields, along with innumerable Stealth-Class Strike Fighters and Drop Ships.

The backbone of this faction was a hundred thousand Crusader Battle Suits for atmospheric penetration. Protected with Battleship Armor Class Pexanium and level six reflector shields that caused most energy-based projectiles to simply ricochet off, it rendered most enemy weapons useless. Armed with the latest Battle Suit weaponry such as Plasma Blades equipped on both arms, which projected themselves from the wrist-bound blade generators, dual shoulder-mounted Rail Guns for massive long-range strikes, fully automatic Gauss Rifles for mid-range combat, Plasma cannons, and multi-missile packs, they were the most advanced known mech suits in existence. 

Unlike most Gauss weaponry, which fired single depleted uranium slugs that pierced most armor and shields, an FA Gauss Rifle had a much higher rate of fire, which treated slug as an automatic rifle bullet. Rail Guns, on the other hand, used electromagnetism to hurl massive bullets at hypersonic speeds that tore through most Battleships and still managed to heavily damage the next one in line. Multi-missile packs, on the other hand, to put it simply, were what the McDread used to destroy the duplicate Vandread Meia.

"Patch it through, then."

"Yes sir." Fleet Admiral Robert Ashton Talmadge appeared on the main screen.

"What can I do for you, Rob?" Gisborn asked the cream haired officer.

"I heard you were headed for Arcadia Romano, so I got a good luck charm for you to take." He replied.

"What sort of 'good luck charm'?"

"How's about five Cruiser' worth of Crusaders to be placed under your command for the time being?"

Was he hearing things? One Thanatos Battle Cruiser housed at least a hundred Crusaders, and he was giving them five Cruisers' worth? That meant they now had 500 of the best mechs crafted by the army. Either he was very generous, or he was just plain bored.

"Why thank, you Rob. I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing of it, Charlie. Where's Elena?"

"In her quarters."

"I see." The Admiral of the Fleet paused for a moment, "In that case, I had best be going, now. The minister only gave me permission to deliver them, and no more." As his image vanished, five new blips appeared on the scanners. The Thanatos Cruisers have joined the ranks of their own Battle Group to tackle the enemy.

"Sir, we're coming up on Arcadia Romano." A technician announced.

"Very well, then. Once we exit the wormhole, order all vessels to deploy Strike Fighters and power up their weapon systems." He said. This was going to be another messy campaign. He just had to face it. There were going to be casualties. People were going to die.

"I believe that's my call, Gisborn." Durleinon said as she came through the door, fully dressed.

"Of course," he replied, "Your call, ma'am."

"Ensign, open a channel to the entire fleet." She ordered.

"Channel is now open, Admiral. Any thing you want to say?"

"Attention, all Battle Cruisers. This is your Fleet Admiral speaking. Upon exiting the wormhole, I want all Strike Fighters deployed, all weapon systems operational, and all shields up. We shall split into two groups. Admiral Kilmer with the second division will take the Night Zone, while the first division and I will defend the Day Zone. Engage in tactics seen best by your commanding officers to be effective. Handle the enemy with care and ensure the Earth forces do not touch the planet. Aid the defense forces present. Crusaders will stay here and reinforce the first division. That is all." She signed off, adrenalin pumping through her blood. That was always the case during any major conflict.

"Now what?"

"It's nothing. Ready the Parabola. Launch all Strike Fighters and Singularity Interceptors."

"Affirmative."

End of Chap3

QUOTE OF THE DAY—TOPIC:  A TACTICAL ADVISORY

"If I determine the enemy's disposition of forces while I have no perceptible form, I can concentrate my forces while the enemy is fragmented. The pinnacle of military deployment approaches the formless: If it is formless, then even the deepest spy cannot discern it nor the wise make plans against it."

                                    —Sun Tzu

                                        "The Art of War," Datalinks, ALPHA CENTAURI

Author's Notes: Sorry if this was somewhat short for what I usually write. I'm suffering from writer's block right now, so please help with more ideas! Thanks to everybody who's been reviewing me!


	4. Reflections in the Mirror

Author's Notes: I can't believe that others think I'm _that good. My teacher, an excellent writer, at that, has read the stories I have submitted to him for assignments and projects, and he says that they need a lot more improvement. Why? I asked him, and he says that I missed the essence of the story—the characters' feelings, deeper detail, more consistency—and the likes of that. In any case, this will be mostly a POV type chapter, focused on one of my original characters (Just like everybody else, a character needs a background, well, this is it!), although there will be active scenes here. Oh, yeah, and I might give a rather short sneak peek showing how exactly Gascogne turned that shutdown mother ship into an RC spacecraft. (Nobody has ever seen her work on it, so I might as well give a guess on how that was done!) Oh yeah. Thanks again to SMAC (Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri) for inspiration and quotes! One more thing: The only things I got from SMAC, though were some quotes, and some tech inspiration. The details on how the techs work, like the physical manifestations of the singularity gun, are my imagination put to work!!!_

Disclaimer: I don't own Vandread, so don't sue me, cause I'm just a kid! No lawyer, no bank account, no nothing! I don't even own any of the characters here except my originals!

Chapter 4: Reflections in the Mirror

Crusader Unit 8, Defense Line 13, Romano Daylight Zone, Near Arcadia Romano

Friday, 1535 hours, AST…

Captain Jason Dolmer cringed at the damage the Earth's forces had inflicted on his Crusader Battle Suit. He was a pilot, one of the best of his generation, which is why he was placed on Sarkaeder Battle Group Thanatos' list of Crusader pilots. The damage was heavy, a pod's main gun had blown off his right arm, and a cube fighter (a not so smart one at that) had collided into his left leg, rendering it practically useless. 

He saw seven Mother Ships approaching his position. Almost all of the Battle Cruisers situated within the immediate area have already been destroyed, but not before becoming responsible for the destruction of at least thirty of the purple vessels.

He strained at the psycho-sensitive control orbs that he held in his hands. They were simple enough to manipulate, all that the pilot really needed was enough willpower, and the mech's maneuver was limited to his imagination. The heavily armored machine responded, and grasped an oncoming cube, doing a 360-degree spin before hurling the said offender at a nearby pod, destroying both.

"Switch to left shoulder's Rail Gun, Isis." Although the moves were solely the pilots', it did not hurt to have an AI super computer installed to auto-control for those who had poor focus, or were just slow thinkers.

"Okey-dokey, Captain." Isis, the AI installed in his system, was Dolmer's weapons manager. Switching weapons was his weak point, and Isis was his reinforcement beam. The schematic of the weapon he was using, a Level 3 Plasma Blade, went out of focus and were replaced by the prints of a heavy-looking projectile weapon: the Rail Gun.

The azure energy blade receded into its generator, situated on the wrist of the battle suit's remaining arm. They were equipped with two, but a good pilot had to adjust to sudden changes such as this one. 

Almost immediately after that, the left side of the mech's back opened, and out slid a physical manifestation of what showed on Dolmer's weapon screen. This in turn, slid up to shoulder level, and tilted itself horizontally until it rested on the robot's shoulder, its barrel crackling to life with blue energies as the target came into view… one whole mother ship.

 An Arcadian Rail Gun used a nuclear powered electromagnet as an ignition device, charging the 180-centimeter long piercing round with enough momentum to hurl it at velocities well passing the speed of sound. It was usually more than enough to destroy a harvest mother ship, and was very effective. That was the case of course, if the projectile hit the enemy's reactor, causing a leak that would destroy the whole damn thing all together.

He grinned, his face bloodied by the battering he received. If he were going down, at least he would take another one of these bastards to hell with him. He willed his command into the controls, the crosshairs lining up facing the enemy's main gun dead center. 

He couldn't help but shout, "Fire!" out loud as the now crackling blue opening to his weapon unleashed a massive energy surge in wake of the projectile, sending it for a bull's eye hit of the mother ship.

His grin widened even more as he saw the shot penetrate the enemy's hull, pass out through the rear, and blow a hole through another one in line, before detonating. He checked on his teammates' statuses, they were grouped well and in peak fighting shape. Not like him, though. He was assigned to go into a hot spot, and ended up with a bad bust.

His sensors continued to flare nearly 20 Gauss Rifles roaring on, scattering thousands of depleted uranium shells all over the already war-torn sector. Rail Guns unleashed their massive bullets, desecrating pods and cubes, some accurate enough to blow a hole through the side of a Harvest Mother Ship, though not enough to destroy it. Plasma cannons seared through countless harvest small fry, whilst their sword-like counterparts were used to slash through pods. Multi-missile sets were launched into the fray, each one separating into dozens of warheads that wreaked massive damage on the enemy's fighters and pods. 

Even through all of their losses, though, the harvest fleet pushed on, seemingly replacing each fallen pod with half a dozen more. The Crusaders were greatly outnumbered. So were their Hammer headed Battle Cruisers, 2:1. A crusader managed to get two Rail Gun (Note that crusaders have a Rail Gun per shoulder) shots to destroy one of the last two mother ships before the other's main gun caught it off-guard and destroyed it.

Dolmer's long standing smile, however, when he decoded an encrypted message sent to his team—Defense Post has been overrun; nearly entire sub-group destroyed; pull back to safe zone—by the ACS Fiery, apparently the last standing Battle Cruiser within the immediate vicinity. 

Seeing as to the fact that there was still one mother ship headed in their direction, he decided to make his impeding death a worthwhile one, "Isis, set the Quantum Reactor and all weapon systems on overload, and set a collision course with that mother ship."

"Captain," the AI replied, "You know very well that I cannot permit that since this goes beyond safety regulation code 4506-EMPORIUM."

"Why do you think I'm giving you the override codes?" he had switched back to his plasma blade and was now hacking expertly through hordes of cubes, getting ever closer to his goal,  "Regulation code 4506-EMPORIUM override command code J-13-MAYDAY-Clockwork."

"Override command accepted. Overloading Quantum Reactor and weapon systems. Course set. Shall I place the Battle Suit on auto-evade?"

"Do so, please." He felt a twinge of guilt at leaving his wife and daughter by themselves, but this was for their future after all. Every mother ship destroyed meant another brighter day for the newborn members of the Delta generation, such as his daughter, Charlotte. A voice in his head bit back at what he idealized, _Don't be so foolish and make that ideal an excuse for taking your own life, Jason! I know you just want to run away from it all—the hardships, the pain, your past, your hatred—you are forgetting that you and I are the same._

"Heh, I don't need to be taking orders from no conscience of mine anymore, buddy." He answered, "This is my life, and I'll end it my way."

"Pardon me, Captain, but who are you talking to?" piped Isis as she continued to monitor the machine's every movement as it headed for the target.

"Myself."

"Sure…"

His field of vision was blocked as the visage of Major Derrick Chalister popped up on screen, "Dolmer! Where the hell are you going!? We've been given orders to pull back, and you're going in the opposite direction!"  
  


"It's for the kids, Major, for the kids."  
  


"What!? Dolmer, you don't have to go on with this foolishness! You can always run away now to fight another day!"

"Sorry, no can do, Major. You can say all you want to say, do all you want to do, but you can't stop me. Sure, my conscience might be right, I could be running away from it all, but I just can't take it anymore!"

The older man became silent as what Dolmer had said began to sink in—'But you can't stop me', 'I could be running away from it all', _He really is going to kill himself!_ He thought—although his physical reflexes to the battle did not change. Chalister had this strange ability to focus on two things at the same time, and that got him to the top of the Crusader food chain. "I understand, Jason, 'My Life, My Death' philosophy, eh?"

"You can say that…" he turned his focus back to getting to the last damned mother ship, but shot a glance back at his commanding officer, saying, "Tell my wife Lola, that I'm sorry for everything I said and that I'm asking for forgiveness; hers and Charlotte's." 

Solemnly, Chalister nodded as the Captain closed the channel. "Sergeant," he contacted another Crusader pilot, "You have your orders, fall back to the Fiery." He watched as the other 18 Crusaders that remained out of 50 no more than 30 minutes ago turned tails and set their main trajectory to the Fiery's Battle Suit Hangars. His heat sensors went up just then, and he turned just in time to see a fiery ball, once a battered Crusader Mech, consume the front half of the harvest vessel. 

Dolmer was always good at estimations. He was thinking of when he had his reactor and weapon systems set to overload, this estimate: Quantum Rectors of the Micro Cass that regular Arcadian vehicles used were powerful enough to destroy anything within a 500-meter radius when overloaded, whilst Quantum Reactors of the Mega Class used in Battle Cruisers enough to blow off half a planet. Therefore, a Macro Class reactor such as those used by Strike Fighters and Crusaders would be sufficient to destroy a harvest ship. 

Hesitantly, Chalister changed his direction as well, headed to the Fiery, but not before firing the worth of his Rail Gun's entire capacity (Which is 25 180cm bullets, by the way) at the semi-organic remains of the harvest craft…

Admiral of the Fleet's Log, ACS Demeter, Ceres Battle Group Flagship, Defense Line 16 of Arcadia Romano's Daylight Zone

Friday, 1540 hours, AST…

            The sliding door shut behind me as I entered my private quarters. "Nick," I called on my Personal Digital Adjutant, PDA, who was in complete control of the room, "Lock entrance with password protection. Set password: Monotony." 

            "Password has been set," the synthesized voice replied, "Shall I set the temperature to your preferences as well, Admiral?"

            "Please do." I sat down on my couch and stole a glance outside. All of the PSGs focused their power into enveloping Arcadia Romano in a protective sheath of deflective energy that should keep the Earth's forces away. They haven't arrived yet, although a few yellow-orange spheres that signaled explosions were already in sight. Turning to face the mirror involuntarily, I examined myself; young, attractive, intelligent. 

Although at 21, I was in a position as high as the fleet gets. This rank was usually saved for the older men of Beta Generation. _How far have I gone?_ I asked myself as I began to muse with the events in my life, what brought me to reach this level of power that I now possessed. 

I blinked, and was surprised to see in my place, a young girl, no older than five, wearing denim jumpers that protected her pink shirt. She was smiling cheerfully as her right hand was posed in front in a victory sign.

           The small, blue-haired girl moved over to her father's couch as he read the data-links' information that was brought to him that day. I smiled as I saw myself in that manner, so small and innocent. She kissed him on the cheek in greetings, "Daddy! Daddy! I want to tell you something!"

           The aging man of 48 fixed his reading glasses as he turned to face her, "What is it, honey?" he asked the child.

           "I want to become a soldier!"

           This statement raised the man's eyebrow. Surely, this was just another childish fantasy of hers. Why in the hell would somebody like her want to join the military? He took it as an understanding parent and inquired of her, "Why is that?"

           "Those other kids at school tease me!" she replied,  "When I try to help them in lifting heavy things, they say that I can't do that since being a girl, I'm weak! I want to show them that they're wrong!" 

He smiled at little Elena Durleinon, patting her on the head, "Well, there are other ways to show them that you're strong besides becoming a soldier, like striving to become an honor student for example."

"I don't want to show them that I'm smart, Daddy." She answered, "I want to show them that I'm strong enough to beat the enemy without their help!"

She was so sincere in saying this, that he finally realized that she indeed wanted to join the army. He thought for a while, thinking that if she did become a soldier, she would grow up through a hard life of pains. How was he going to handle this problem?_ She looks like she really wants to join the military…_ "Alright, then. You just go back to your playing, while I decide." She smiled at him in gratitude as she turned around and went back to her little preoccupations.

Yep. That's where it all began… that fateful day I made that decision… I stare in the mirror once again to see an adolescent, in a muddy white shirt, tucked into her black pants, her attire completed by the combat issue boots that protected her military sock-covered feet. 

It was a gloomy, foggy morning. The dirt roads just a few miles away from the training camp were now slippery and wet, a platoon in formation marching their routine. The drill sergeant remained in the lead, his green uniform intimidating to those who were following. The 20-mile jog was scheduled to end in less than five hours, after which they would return to camp for a brief lunch.

They were nearing the camp, three miles wasn't too far at all, if you spent the last three and a half hours going 17 miles non-stop, when it happened. Her mind froze. She lost control of herself almost immediately after she sensed stepping onto something that could kill her balance. The rain continued to pour hard when she slipped and fell face-first onto the muddy surface.

The drill sergeant, seeing that she was down, gave the rest of the company orders to move on while he handled the situation, and approached her, saying, "Durleinon! Hurry up! We still have a ways to go before this day is done, and I want you up in three!"

She struggled to rise up, slowly, but steadily.

"Two!"  
  


She was at her knees, already standing up.

"One!" at that she continued on the jog as the sergeant moved onwards, observing her successful get-up. 

I saw a blur of sights pass through the portal that was the mirror, and now I saw her yet again, soaking wet in the obstacle course as she persisted to climb a 10-foot-wall, that apparently, she had no success in doing.

The downpour intensified when she lost her grip on the rope and fell backwards, landing hard in the two-inch-deep mud that was accumulating. She was now the last in line for the cadets who were going through the drill. As far as Elena Durleinon, now 11, was concerned, it was impossible to get through this.

"Durleinon!" the drill sergeant had approached her, noting her lack of progress, "Get up and move now!"

She continued to lie, there, unmoving, contrary to the sergeant's orders.

He spat out on the muddy course, fixing a piercing glare at the blue-haired troublemaker that lay in front of him saying, "Spoiled 'Rich Kid' types like you make me sick. Think you're strong enough to play army? Well think again!"

She continued to listen to him preach, remaining motionless, "I'll tell ya again, get up and move! You told me you joined this unit to prove your strength, right? You didn't want to be called a weakling, right? Well then get up and MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

_I'm not a weakling! I will become strong and show them I can beat the enemy on my own! This sparked up a flame inside her, somewhere. She just didn't know where. Wherever it came from, though, she was grateful that it came, as to the fact that she got up, every lost wave of determination returned to her in tenfold numbers. With this new-found strength, she scaled the wall, slipping at some points but maintaining her grasp until she reached the top._

Sure, I was the last to finish the obstacle course, that day, but I learned a very valuable lesson that came with the experience… never surrender until you're finished.

Another peek at the window to the past, and I saw a smart looking young woman in navy blue fleet uniform, 15 at the least, snapped into a salute, smiling of her achievements. 

She had joined the fleet academy, having enough of the rigors of the armed forces, and graduated at rank Colonel, one that was hard to achieve by anybody's standards. Her proof of this was her first Battle Cruiser, a Patrol Class vessel, the ACS Heart of Ice, assigned under the 53rd Battalion of the Regular Division. 

The Arcadian Navy was separated into two Divisions: The Sarkaeder Division, and Regular Division. The Sarkaeder's Five Battle Groups were comprised as follows: Sparta Battle Group: 1800 Battle Cruisers designed to be ten times better at everything than those in the Regular Navy, along with countless Omni-Class Strike Fighters that had tasted thousands of tiny upgrades to be proven better than regulars. 

Ceres Battle Group: 1200 Battle Cruisers with much heavier armor than the rest, even to those from Sparta, thousands of Garrison-Class Strike Fighters with much better armor and shields, and PSGs to protect planets during times of crisis. 

Goliath Battle Group: a thousand Battle Cruisers designed to carry megatons worth of weapons more than anybody else (Which was more than enough firepower to reduce a planet into nothing more than space dust), and a throng of Siege-Class Strike Fighters, which had much more firepower than regulars. 

Thanatos Battle Group: the only thousand Battle Cruisers that had their own Stealth Generators in the entire fleet, a hundred thousand Crusaders for planet-surface campaigns, countless transports for them, and a lot of Stalker-Class Strike Fighters that not only had Cloaking Devices, but Atmospheric Penetration Gear as well.

Regent Battle Group: 1000 Battle Cruisers that used Mimic Camouflage Systems to fool the enemy into thinking them as friendly, tons of intelligence-gathering equipment, and Copycat-Class Strike Fighters equipped with MCS (Mimic Camouflage Systems).

Each Battle Group was unique in itself, but for the 100 Battalions of the Regular Navy, they simply had 100 regular Battle Cruisers per Battalion. All in all, the Arcadian Navy was comprised of 16000 Battle Cruisers, six thousand of which were classified under Sarkaeder. Each of the 13 Arcadian worlds was protected by roughly 769 Battle Cruisers of all Classes, from Patrol Class, to Dreadnaught Class.

She had been assigned to patrol Sector Theta-19 of the Nessis Sub-system, the asteroid ring that surrounded the Arcadian Border Ice Clouds that enveloped their entire system. The smallest of Nessis Sub-system's countless asteroids measured at least five kilometers in diameter, housing great amounts of natural resources ideal for mining. The great distance between the asteroid belt and the nearest Arcadian Border World forced the development of a giant leap in warp-transportation technology: The Bulk Matter Transmission Device, or just the Transmitter for short.

It disassembled those passing through to molecular level and transmitted the particles at light speed to another transmitter located in orbit of Arcadia Madagascar, the system's original mining world, along with blueprints of the particles' original form. The transmitter on that side then reassembled the particles according to the blueprints, thus allowing near immediate processing. Several transmitters were set up at multiple mining points on the belt to ensure a steady industrial income.

            She stood on the main deck, observing the bits of ice and stone that broke off from the belt floating away. Several crewmembers monitored all statues of the ship, shield levels, engine status, long-range radar, and others. She had graduated at the top of her class, putting every bit of sweat and blood she had left into doing so. 

She had treated every strategic simulation as a real battle, utilizing every single Strike Fighter and Singularity Interceptor in inventory, every Multi-Missile set, every available Plasma Cannon, Rail Gun, and Singularity Laser. Nothing was put to waste. The same resourcefulness was used to destroy every single virtual Terran vessel that passed her Cruiser's scanners… with extreme prejudice.

She was very confident to fight against any of the opposition, be it a pod, or Mother Ship, or Planet Destroyer, or whatever. She could take whatever the Earth could throw at her. I sighed. That was me back then, arrogant, inexperienced, naïve. I was never prepared for what happened next… never.

Alarms went berserk at the exact moment when they were just about to call it a day and turn in. "Terran forces detected coming in from 10, 12, and 2 O'clock directions! We're surrounded! What should we do, Colonel?"

"Send a distress signal to all nearby Patrol Groups."

"Yes ma'am."

She thought for a moment, scanning the memories of her training for a three-to-one situation, and found none… She decided to distribute the firepower evenly, "Ensign, order all Strike Fighters and Singularity Interceptors for launch. Send them an encrypted message containing the orders to engage in Battle Strategy Beagle-Roswell-45: Three Part Fork."

"Aye, Colonel."

She watched the three purple ships approach their position, each one intimidating to them, their own Strike Fighters storming out of the Heart of Ice's hangars. "Arm the reflector shields and Hyper Regeneration Systems! Prepare for impact."

"Colonel! Enemies' main guns are powering up! Reflectors won't be up in time to disperse impact—they could deal massive damage to us—maybe even destroy us!" this crewman sounded worried and had the right to be so. Reflector shields could only redirect impact from enemy fire when at maximum power, whilst the effectiveness of the Hyper Regeneration Systems (HRS) depended on the condition of the main Quantum reactor.

"Then we'll just have to rely on the HRS, then…"

"I understand."

Three surges of energy were detected from their corresponding mother ships' directions—bad news for the cruiser—as Strike Fighters and Singularity Interceptors fought and fell due to outnumbering. It was a losing battle. 

They could only watch and wait for the outcome of events, with their forces losing, and the enemy preparing to destroy them, there was barely enough hope left to spare for the crew of the bridge alone. Multi-Missile sets continued to spew forth from turrets, Plasma cannons continuing to discharge, Rail Guns expending their ammunition. None of the projectiles, however, even came close to touching the enemy's mother ships.

Her sky-blue eyebrow began to twitch, a sign of her frustration at the products of theirs and the enemy's actions. This wasn't going to end well… not at all. She braced herself for the worst. She noted the enemy's tactics… three main guns pointed at the same target… at a certain angle. She realized that they could be countered after all, "Ensign, set the shield's frequency from reflection to refraction, now!"

Apparently, the officer had seen the same possibility. When at such an angle, three concentrated energy beams hitting the same prism would cause a switcheroo effect that would just interchange their positions whilst redirecting the directions to an angular target source. With renewed enthusiasm, he replied, "Roger!"

The reactor buzzed at the work being done, the shield's frequency changing just in time to be intercepted by the discharges of the enemy's main guns. The energy shots were refracted and in the blink of an eye, the mother ships' sensors picked up high-energy beams headed back in their directions. A trio of explosions occurred after that, followed by a Singularity Interceptor flying for each direction with orders to zap anything that remained with the power of a black hole.

As Colonel Elena Durleinon, 15 years old, expected, something was left from the blast. The SIs made quick work of the remaining halves of the once powerful ships. No sooner than that did she get a transmission from Ceres Battle Group's Flagship, the Demeter. It was from Fleet Admiral Dwight Winfield, the current Commanding officer of Ceres Battle Group. He had witnessed her escapade, and saw the potential that deserved reassignment to the Sarkaeder Division.

Credentials were submitted, strings were pulled, and in a few months' time, I was one of the aging commander's most trusted subordinates. By the time I was 18, I was Admiral of the second division, matured with experience… then came that fateful day a year later.

He was diagnosed with Prometheus' Disease… currently having no cure at all. It was caused by the Prometheus Virus; non-contaminating, it was, yes, but… there was no hope for him anymore. Sooner or later, he was going to croak, and his aging didn't help at all, but to make his condition worse. One of the older men from the Beta Generation, and at age 67, he was practically done for with this disease.

His right hand Vice-Admiral had died in an accident a week before, and it all happened so fast I could hardly believe what was going on. "Sir…" said the young Admiral as she stood by the side of his bed.

"Durleinon," he coughed before finishing his statement, "I have been meaning to tell you this ever since your rank began to heighten rapidly… your potential the first time I saw you fight was great. I know that I'm going to die very soon," he wheezed.

"Sir, please," she begged, "Don't talk too much. It'll just make your condition worse."

"It doesn't really matter now, does it? So far, you are the only person who by my standards has qualified to succeed me." he began to cough again, "Take care of her for me… take care of the Demeter, and of the rest of Ceres."

"Wh-what are you saying, sir?" she replied, a both worried and surprised expression on her face. 

He grasped her hand with his own old, worn down reach and held it tight to his blanketed form, "Promise me, now, Durleinon. Promise me!"

She had made up her mind then. She was going to be this great man's successor, and as such do everything in her power to make sure he became proud of her. Nothing was getting in her way. Nothing at all, "Yes, sir. I promise."

"Elena… you've always been like a daughter to me, and I know that you're strong enough to survive the rigors of being responsible for the lives of so many." He wheezed yet again saying, "Congratulations on your promotion… Fleet Admiral Durleinon." A moment of spastic coughing later, and he breathed his last, shutting his eyes forever as his hands limped from their once firm grip on hers and fell to his sides, the cardiograph reading zero…

I called for the doctor frantically, the medic arriving far too late to do anything about the man who did everything in his power to protect the Confederacy. For some strange reason, my only regret from his death was that I failed to learn more about him, the many things he could've taught me, gone out into space with his casket, cadaver inside. 

I ogle at the reflection once again, seeing myself as I am now. Three years I have spent as the head of this Battle Group, things getting worse with every meeting. I pity the one who would succeed me when unprepared… but then again, that was still a long ways away; and I also know for a fact that Gisborn is more than capable of doing so.

"Admiral, an incoming transmission from the bridge. It's Vice-Admiral Gisborn." Nick announced.

"Patch it through."

Charles Gisborn's face appeared on main screen, an urgent message in mind, "Elle, we've found the ACS McDread. It's at defense line 15, although they are already under attack. Orders?"

"Send reinforcements to the area. If you can't save it, then salvage the Pirate Ship at least." I replied.

"Understood. We've already hailed them, and their commanding officer, Colonel Roy Flint, has agreed to turn the Pirate Ship's captivity over to us." He removed his Navy hat shortly and raked through his brown locks with his fingers.

"Good. Make sure to bring that ship and its contents here safely."

"Right." He ended the transmission, the screen blacking out.

I take one last look at the mirror and smile. My life was, and still is, full of hardships. This is the life of a soldier. I will fulfill my promise to myself. I will show them that I can beat the enemy on my own—with my own strategy at least. I will keep me oath to you, my Good Admiral Winfield. Ceres Battle Group will win this round. This is Fleet Admiral Elena Durleinon signing off… I'll be at the bridge if anyone needs me. 

Bridge, Abandoned Mother Ship, Unknown Space…

Friday, 1738 hours, NST…

            "Well, let's see…" Gascogne Rheingau pried the semi-organic panel off the surface, revealing the Earth Vessel's complex circuitry. "A remote control transponder would fit these ports perfectly." She said, her clenched teeth keeping her signature wire in its place while she stared down at the mechanism.

            Good thing she was able to snatch a spacesuit just in time to bail out of the Delivery Ship. _And I really liked that ship too!_ Her head screamed. "Okay, let's get to work. She had awoken from the blast in time to see Nirvana sail away from the dilapidated Harvest toy at full speed. She might as well have done something to catch up. 

            Salvaging supplies from the remains of her ship was the hard part. Having to maneuver through a genuine maze of shrapnel and debris could tire a person out a lot… not her, though. Her search was rewarded with an intact crate full of enough crab to last several weeks. "Talk about luck." She mumbled as she plugged a red plug into the rainbow-colored socket.

            She had been working on restoring the auto repair systems for the past few hours, but nothing seemed to be working. That was when she stumbled on the little present Pyoro had left behind… the Pexis Virus that came with Misty in her pod. "Oh, here's the problem." She fished her ever-reliable incision tool from a compartment in her spacesuit.

            It took some time to remove that, but when it was done, and with the reprogramming disc in place, all she had to do was wait for the device to take effect. Once that happened, she would be able to catch up with them. The question was… when was it going to take effect, and how long was it going to take?

End of Chap4 

QUOTE OF THE DAY—TOPIC: THE HUMAN GENOME PROJECT  
  


            "To map the very stuff of life; to look into the genetic mirror and watch a million generations march past. That, friends, is both our curse and our proudest achievement. For it is in reaching to our beginnings that we begin to learn who we truly are."

                        --Academician Prokhor Zakharov

                           'Address to the Faculty', Alpha Centauri

Author's Notes: Yeah, I've got writer's block right now. That sneak peek was too short… I guess that comes with age, eh? Hope this will make good.


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